Pathfinder Tales--Reaper's Eye

by Richard A. Knaak

  A shout cut through the noise of the throng. A shout Daryus recognized without looking as coming from Harricka.

  He had no doubt he was the reason for that shout. Scowling, Daryus forced his mount through the confused crowd and down the side street. Moments later, he raced past a startled guard at a gate and reentered the southern part of New Kenabres. There, the way opened up better. However, Daryus did not breathe any easier. Harricka was not one to give up so easily.

  He pushed the mare as hard as he could, at the same time shouting a warning to anyone who threatened to be in his path. Despite his urgency, Daryus did everything he could to avoid endangering those around him. All he wanted was to get out of Kenabres quickly enough to lose any pursuit.

  Toy seemed less inclined to worry about those on foot. “Faster! Faster!” the weasel cried in his ear. “Faster!”

  They charged through a stunned throng at the next wall, entering the Gate District’s southern arm. The final district became a blur as Daryus fought for a safe route through the citizenry of Kenabres.

  The southern gate at last beckoned. Daryus dared not slow the mare. That forced him to shout more, which in turn caused some of the guards to notice him sooner than he had hoped.

  One of those atop the gate ran to the rail and called down. Daryus could not see the reaction from below, but had to assume someone would begin trying to shut the way very soon. Fortunately for him, the gates were massive and the guards focused outward, better suited to repelling a demonic siege than stopping a single rider from trying to escape.

  From somewhere far back, Harricka’s voice cut through again. Daryus dared peer over his shoulder.

  The captain and four of her crusaders fought to get their horses through the crowd. Unlike with Daryus, they, as crusaders, were having better fortune.

  As he returned his attention to the path before him, he saw that there were now also four sentries gathered ahead. Daryus swore, then bent low over the mare. Despite his wish not to hurt anyone, he charged the four.

  The guards stood their ground until the very last moment. Two threw themselves to the left, while another dodged to the right.

  The remaining guard attempted a feat of daring. His weapon sheathed, he jumped up as the horse closed on him. Strong arms sought to snag the mare by the neck in what Daryus supposed must have been an effort to steer the animal to a gradual stop.

  Daryus tugged at the nearest fingers, which proved enough to make the sentry lose the rest of his grip. The guard tumbled to the side. Daryus prayed that his would-be foe would not be trampled, but could not look back to see.

  Unfortunately, the delay enabled two of the other crusaders from the gate to reach him. One seized Daryus’s leg, then tried to bring up a sword.

  Using his other leg to kick at the second attacker, Daryus threw his weight into a punch against his first foe’s jaw. The guard stumbled, but did not fall. Daryus brought his sword into play, forcing the crusader back.

  By that time, the guard he had kicked at had closed again. She slashed at his side, cutting into his clothing but only barely scraping his skin. Daryus was forced to bring his sword around to fend her off, then tugged on the reins to make his mount turn toward her.

  Once more, the guard retreated. As she did, a grinding sound alerted Daryus to another danger. Other guards were attempting to shut the gate.

  Daryus planted his head in the horse’s mane and spurred the animal forward.

  A whistling sound near his ear warned him that at least one archer had gotten a shot off. Fortunately for Daryus, the risk of hitting the wrong target evidently remained a very real danger, for no second shot came.

  He burst through the gate. Even then, Daryus did not breathe easy. There were still people trying to enter, which slowed him slightly, but at the same time prevented another volley from above. Unfortunately, there were more guards outside, including a mounted officer who immediately steered his horse toward Daryus. Daryus attempted to ride around the man, but failed.

  They traded blows, swords clanging loud and sending the crowds scattering. Daryus cursed under his breath. If the way cleared much more, not only would the guards on the ground be able to better reach him, but a sharp-eyed archer might get off a fatal shot.

  The officer was a younger man, which gave Daryus hope; he’d learned a few tricks since his own youth.

  Daryus started a lunge. The crusader moved to counter, only to find Daryus suddenly twisting around in mid-attack, seeming to open himself up to his foe.

  The officer couldn’t help but take the bait. The sword veered toward Daryus’s open chest.

  Daryus twisted down, letting the blade nick his shoulder. Coming up from where he bent, he seized the officer by his wrist, pulling the younger man off his horse.

  As the crusader fell toward him, Daryus used his fist and the hilt of his weapon to soundly strike the officer. He then shoved the stunned crusader in the path of the guards charging toward them.

  A whistling sound was Daryus’s only warning. His horse let out a pained cry and shook.

  Daryus threw himself at the newly riderless mount, another mare. He felt Toy’s claws dig into his flesh as the weasel sought to maintain a hold. Scrambling as best he could onto the saddle, Daryus urged the crusader horse on.

  One guard slashed at Daryus’s new mount, but missed. Two more arrows flew past man and horse.

  The way cleared. The mare started to slow, but Daryus slapped her sides, refusing to let her. The animal picked up her pace again. Horns blared, but Daryus ignored both those and the dwindling shouts.

  Daryus did not simply let the horse run wild. As soon as the road curved behind a rise, out of view of the city walls, he turned off it and rode overland through the trees.

  He knew most of the paths into the Worldwound, including the ones that Shiera’s captors were most likely to choose. Any of the paths were dangerous, but the latter were truly so. Daryus was not so concerned with the mercenaries as he was what they might encounter. He had not thought Galifar that big of a fool, but if the man believed that he and his three companions were enough to counter any situation, he was sorely mistaken. They did not have Daryus’s knowledge of the benighted land, one of the main reasons for which Daryus had been hired, he suspected.

  Only after some time cantering up a muddy stream to throw off any trackers did Daryus finally dare rein the mare to a halt. Immediately, Toy expressed his displeasure with the decision.

  “Night comes! We cannot stop! Must go on!”

  The human eyed the failing light. “We’ll go on a little more, but there needs to be a short stop. I know a place to settle in, but she’ll never get us there if we keep on like this.”

  With a hiss of frustration, Toy leapt off of his shoulder and onto the ground. The weasel scurried into the brush.

  Daryus found himself happy to be rid of the creature for the moment. His distrust of the familiar had only grown, but for now he needed Toy. Once they managed to find the Pathfinder, Daryus would divest himself of the weasel, witch or not.

  While the mare chewed on some grass, Daryus went in search of the spring he knew lay hidden nearby. Not even many of the crusaders would be aware of its location. Daryus himself had only discovered it by accident many years ago after fleeing his former comrades—a situation much like this one, honestly. If the spring was untouched, he would bring the mare there for water. Then, it would be easier for the three of them to move on to shelter.

  He had only gone a few steps when he saw the tracks.

  Crouching down, Daryus studied the fragmented hoofprints. One horse, possibly more. He exhaled in disappointment. There was no way of telling just who it was who had ridden past here, only that they had done so very recently.

  But if not her and Galifar … then who else would be out here? Daryus wondered.

  Just in case, he drew his sword, then closed on the location of the spring.

  A horse snorted.

  Daryus paused. He heard the trickle of water
.

  He heard someone drinking from the water.

  In the dimming light, he made out a figure clad in a travel cloak bent over the spring. Daryus’s gaze went from the cloaked form to the horse, where a small blade hung in a scabbard. The weapon was entirely unsuited for anyone so near to the Worldwound, which to Daryus meant that either the stranger was a fool or had some hidden manner of defense.

  And then, with unsteady movements, the figure stood, turned, and gasped.

  Before Daryus stood Raffan.

  Who promptly collapsed.

  13

  SAVAGE SALVATION

  Shiera woke to find her world rocking.

  She belatedly realized that the rocking was due to the motion of the horse upon which she sat. Darkness surrounded her—the darkness of a shrouded night, not the hood she had at first thought covered her head.

  Shiera was just able to see the rider in front of her. She recognized him as one of Captain Galifar’s men, and with that knowledge came the rest of her memories, especially her chase through the city. More and more, she wished that she had stayed and tried to deal with whatever had pursued her instead of fleeing.

  Her attempts to struggle free only resulted in pained wrists. Not only were her hands bound tightly behind her, but her mouth was covered so that she could barely make a sound. After a few minutes of squirming, Shiera earned the attention of one of the mercenaries. The bearded man checked her bonds, then returned to his place.

  They rode on for what she estimated as two more hours. Although her eyes adapted somewhat to the dark, Shiera still had no idea just where she was. She had her suspicions, but not until a strange howl in the distance made all of her captors ready their weapons was she sure.

  They were within the Worldwound.

  While Shiera had been more than eager to reach the blighted land, she had not wanted to do so in such straits. She wasn’t so overconfident as to think she was safe from outside dangers simply because she was surrounded by four heavily armed men. Indeed, with their clinking and clanking, Shiera was concerned that Captain Galifar and his men would only draw danger to them.

  Galifar signaled for a halt near a squat hill. In silence, he and the others made camp while Shiera sat waiting impatiently on her horse. Only when everything was done to the captain’s satisfaction did he come over and lift her off.

  “You’re a sturdy one for so tiny,” the mercenary noted as he set her on her feet. “Not some weak court lady. I like that.”

  Shiera hid her disgust, instead very politely indicating as best she could for him to remove the gag.

  He laughed harshly. “Only when it’s time to eat. Too many of you Pathfinders have magic, or at least silver tongues.”

  The mercenary captain led her to a place near the small fire one of the others had built, then forced her into a sitting position. A few minutes later, he brought her a bowl of some foul-smelling broth. With care, he removed the gag just enough to enable her to eat.

  “Just remember, I won’t hesitate to cut you if you try to say anything else besides ‘more,’” he warned.

  The pungent scent of the broth already assailing her nostrils, Shiera wondered if this last declaration was meant as some sort of bad jest. She wondered that again once she actually tasted the disgusting mess. There was meat, yes, but what its animal origins were, Shiera couldn’t say.

  Midway through the meal, she dared try to speak. “May I ask a question?”

  “Let me guess: Where are we going? Is that it?”

  She nodded.

  He leaned back. “Why, we’re going to take you where you want. How does that sound?”

  Shiera raised an eyebrow.

  Galifar chuckled. “You ain’t going to want to be there when you see it, or so I’m told.”

  She opened her mouth to ask more, but the captain shook his head. “Enough talk. You know all you need to know for now. Eat, then we’ll see about your other matters.”

  After dinner and said necessities, during which Galifar tied her to a tree and stood guard a polite distance away, he tied her wrists again, then led her back to the fire. One of the other men took an interested glance at Shiera, but the captain grunted his direction and the mercenary immediately shifted his gaze away. The others feared Galifar.

  “You’ll sleep well here,” he told Shiera as he pushed her to a sitting position near the fire. “So long as you don’t make trouble.”

  At first, Shiera thought he might actually leave her legs free, but Galifar continued to prove himself a thorough man. He bound her at the ankles, then finally left her to her own devices.

  Shiera tried her ropes and found them as snug as expected. She had absolutely no chance of freeing herself.

  One by one, her captors settled down for the night. Galifar took first watch himself, marching back and forth through the camp. Despite everything, Shiera found his precision comforting enough that she finally fell asleep.

  When she woke later, Galifar had been replaced by the same beady-eyed mercenary who had studied her upon her return from the edge. Unlike the captain, he did not march around, but rather squatted near the fire.

  Somehow, despite her situation, sleep again claimed her. Fragmented dreams swirled through her subconscious, some slowly becoming longer, more coherent. Most had to do with her expedition and generally ended with her standing triumphant before some place she could not see.

  Then Shiera began dreaming about her captivity. Only, in the dream, she was no longer tied hand and foot. Instead, she stood in the center of the camp, almost exactly on the spot where she vaguely recalled the fire being. There was no fire, though, but rather a glow that emanated from the area around her feet and rose up to encompass her entire body.

  Looking around, Shiera saw that the guard had fallen asleep. Yet despite this opportunity to flee, she did not move, almost as if something still held her in place.

  Thunder rumbled. The sound came so sudden and so loud that it shook her. A wind picked up and lightning crackled. Yet, despite this storm materializing from nowhere, none of her captors had so much as stirred.

  Then Shiera discovered herself still unbound, but farther back. The glow where the campfire had been remained, but now in its midst formed a monstrous, winged thing with a long, gray head ending in two high horns and only one eye. It stretched out a narrow arm that ended in a hand with four long claws.

  Lightning flashed. The demon—for it could be no other creature—opened a wide, lipless mouth filled with teeth and grinned at the gathering storm.

  Shiera wanted to recoil, but her body would not move. She would have shouted out warning to her captors, if her mouth only worked.

  Moving along on thin, bent legs ending in two narrow toes, the winged creature stalked toward the unmoving forms. The talons closed on the first of the mercenaries.

  Shiera’s mouth finally opened, but in slow motion. Worse, no sound issued forth. She attempted to wave a warning, but even moving her hand proved ponderous.

  Yet almost as if he heard her, Captain Galifar finally awoke. He looked up, saw the creature, and shouted. Despite his voice not carrying to her, evidently it did at least reach his comrades

  Well-seasoned in combat, they all had weapons ready. Unfortunately, that was still not good enough for the errant guard, the one toward which the thing had headed. As the mercenary started to rise, the creature raked him with its talons.

  The man shrieked—silently, like everything else—as his body opened up like a piece of cut fruit and blood and organs spilled forth. He contorted, then tumbled to the ground, where he continued to writhe as the last of his life fluids pooled around him.

  Galifar and the others had not simply stood around during that time. Even as the demon lunged for their comrade, the captain and his companions charged.

  The first of the mercenaries immediately thrust. Despite his aim being true, his blade somehow slid past his target.

  The demon’s mouth opened wider than Shiera would have thought possi
ble, revealing yet even more sharp teeth.

  With speed akin to the lightning itself, the demon leapt forward and bit out not only the hapless fighter’s throat, but nearly all of his neck.

  Eyes still wide in shock, the mercenary’s head collapsed onto his shoulders. The man, already dead, teetered for a moment before falling back.

  Galifar and the last man came at the demon from opposing sides. The captain wore a determined look, his underling one of fear.

  As Galifar feinted, the younger man thrust, his form perfect—only to have his sword point slide off the demon’s hide without a scratch.

  That was too much for the younger mercenary. With a cry, he turned and ran for the horses.

  His flight only served to draw the demon’s attention. Wings fluttering, it rose just enough to catch up to the fleeing man, then raised both sets of talons and ripped apart the mercenary’s back. The man staggered forward, then dropped with one hand still outstretched toward the horses, who struggled hard to free their reins from where they were tied.

  Galifar used the moment to strike. He aimed not for the torso, but rather for where the head met the thick neck.

  The sword point pierced the scaled flesh at the base of the skull. The demon’s entire body shook.

  The fiendish creature turned as if not even noticing the gaping wound it had received. With one savage swing, the demon forced Captain Galifar back. Baring his teeth, the mercenary slashed again, only to miss.

  The demon lunged. Despite Galifar’s defensive position, the talons still managed to reach through and grab his throat.

  Nails digging deep into the captain’s neck, the demon dragged Galifar’s face within inches of its own. The hand flexed, cutting off the human’s air and forcing his mouth open.

  Galifar tried to get his sword around, but failed.

  The demon opened its mouth wide, then wider and wider yet … and bit off Galifar’s entire face.

  The captain shook. Unable to help, Shiera watched in horror as Galifar, still clearly alive, tried to overcome his terrifying injury. Somehow, he yet managed to bring up the sword, but there he lost his last bit of strength.